"Here you are, boy." The lady winked down at the grubby boy who had recently sold her a newspaper, and swept away. Crutchie examined the coin sitting in his palm, providing a shining stark contrast from the mucky streets looming around him. A wide grin slowly broke out on his face, and he cheerfully stuck the quarter in his pocket, already beginning to appreciate the jingle and jangle of the coin as it swung around in the loose fabric. Already the sun seemed brighter and each newspaper sell a golden opportunity.

But then, when wasn't each sell a golden opportunity?